Back Where We Belong
by Too Young to Feel This Tired
Summary: The White Violin rarely had dreams, but when she did they were all about kids in matching uniforms and tall dark figures behind closed doors.


**Title:** Back Where We Belong

**Summary:** The White Violin rarely had dreams, but when she did they were all about kids in matching uniforms and tall dark figures behind closed doors.

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

* * *

The White Violin rarely had dreams, but when she did they were all about kids in matching uniforms and tall dark figures behind closed doors. She never knew where they came from or why were the faces of the kids the same, but she rarely dreamed so she tried not to think about them too much.

All her life she had been and worked in the Commission, that much the Violin knew. She lost count of the years as time moved differently in the Commission, but even that she found pointless to care about. For most of the time there was little the Violin felt the need to care about.

She was good at her job. She went to the place she needed to go. She unleashed her powers like a bomb, and she wrote her report. Sometimes the circumstances were different. Sometimes there were people trying to stop her. Other times there wasn't anyone around. In the end, it didn't matter, she finished her mission all the same and wrote her report as if nothing happened. Her job was easy for the most part, and she was good in it. It filled all of her life and the Handler praised her for how good she was, very organized, pragmatic and a good worker. As far as the Violin could tell her job was her life, and it worked that way well.

Time however fast or slow for the White Violin went by all the same.

* * *

There were moments. Yes, perhaps, it would be better to call them moments when White Violin dreamed and thought the dreams might matter so she told the Handler about them during their weekly meetings in her office. The meetings were something that occurred for as long as the Violin could remember. She didn't know or care if her colleagues were given the same courtesy for most of the time, but on those rare occasions, she did allow herself to feel something she felt pleased about being so high up on the work ladder. Other times she felt something…else, but she tried to push that away not sure how to process it anyway.

Usually, they drank black coffee, no sugar, no milk on their weekly meetings. She liked the coffee that way. It was the only way she remembered ever drinking it and since she didn't remember ever having sugar or milk in it, she never asked the Handler for it.

However, whenever the White Violin spoke about the dreams the Handler made her tea instead. She didn't really enjoy the tea as much as the coffee however, it left her with a certain mark inside her body under her skin a certain numbness different to her not carrying. If she could, she avoided the tea, always feeling a bit hint of annoyance when the dreams returned knowing she would be offered the tea. She never refused anything the Handler offered or order her to do. The White Violin didn't dream after that and didn't care that she didn't. Very little faced her, very little caught her interested.

A simple, 'I read your report, good work,' from the Handler was the only time she felt some sort of _feeling_. The gratitude of being recognized for something she did…something special…but even whenever she caught the beginning of the feeling she also felt something else... sadder. Whenever she felt the beginning of the emotion she pushed it all away and left the office as if nothing happened. Again doing her work, writing her report, visiting the Handler and repeat.

* * *

The White Violin didn't talk to anyone besides the Handler and even then because the woman asked her. She didn't need company, and it seemed as the other employees of the Commission weren't interested in her company either most of them turning their gazes away or nervously stepping from one foot to another.

She didn't understand their fear. She would only use her powers in the field during her mission, didn't they know? But she was never one to start a conversation and because they didn't either they all stayed away from her and she from them. If she was lonely she didn't know. She couldn't recall what it was like to have someone in the first place. Maybe she was always alone sitting in the cafeteria, or by her small desk where she wrote her reports, or in her small room. Who knew? Loneliness wasn't so bad when it was all she knew.

When she had dreams about the kids in the same uniform she often saw them sitting together. A lot of times they were quiet as if too busy to talk but from times to times she did see them talking about things the Violin didn't understand or remember when she woke up. Yet when she saw them like that they seemed _happier_. The White Violin tended to feel almost sad on those mornings when she dreamed before she pushed the emotions away again.

* * *

The Violin wasn't sure how long it had been since the man showed up. He was new, and she noticed him before in passing but didn't see the point to greet him. He didn't greet her either and didn't seem to pay much attention to her at first before they both paused on their way to the report room.

It was the first time the Violin took a better look at the man. He looked in his fifties, with grayish hair and wrinkles. Yet his eyes. It seemed that they were eyes of an old experienced man and still an odd thought crossed the Violin's mind as if they didn't see anything yet. It was as if they missed out on things. The Violin rarely thought about others in such a way, and to think of such a thing about a man she didn't know that well surprised her probably for the first time in as long as she could remember.

The man took a step back and raised his hand with his palm turned toward the ceiling, 'After you.'

How long has it been since someone addressed her in anyway? Someone other than the Handler? She couldn't recall at all.

But she walked inside wondering if perhaps she should say something, or nod, or do some other gesture. It was too late of course, so she just walked inside to her desk. If she turned back around to see which desk would the man choose, she wouldn't be able to explain why she got curious, but she did.

* * *

It appeared the man wasn't afraid of her or at least didn't show his nervosity around her the same way the others did. He didn't mind standing close to her or walking by her side if they headed in the same direction. He didn't speak to her again, and the Violin found it a bit of a pity. She wasn't sure what would they talk about? Perhaps the reports? The mission? The weather.

She tried to eardrop on the conversations of others but didn't find it suitable to be able to talk about any of the things her colleagues shared with each other. She wished he would talk her to first, but found it unlikely she would know how to answer. Whenever she spoke with the Handler, the woman asked her the same repetitive questions over and over again. The answers were more mechanical than anything else.

_How have you been? _

_Did something interesting happen this week? _

_Did you have the dreams again? _

Good. Nothing unusual. No/Yes after which they would have coffee or tea. She wished she didn't have the dreams at all. She didn't like how the tea tasted she realized. After watching the man in the cafeteria one day, a thought occurred to her that the tea tasted bitter but in a different way than the coffee. The bitterness of the coffee was acceptable and enjoyable, but the tea made the Violin feel different and unpleased the more she thought about it. It also didn't help that her next meeting was approaching and the dreams started to visit her sleep. She didn't wish for things often, but she wished they wouldn't, or at least the Handler wouldn't offer her the tea this time.

As her eyes found the man again finish his food and leave the room she was torn between wanting to speak with him and not at all. It was a very confusing situation to be in. But if she was honest with herself, she didn't always want to talk to the Handler, yet she did. Strange indeed.

Maybe it was best she didn't talk with the man at least. Perhaps, he would offer her tea as well.

* * *

The Violin finished her mission, returned to the Commission and went to write her report. She chose a desk in the back this time remembering the man often took it. However, this time too many employees were writing their reports, so he had to take a desk close to the door.

Such a strange idea. Once she realized she took the desk to sit close to the man, she couldn't explain why exactly or why did she had this interest in talking to him. None of it should matter, and yet…

Writing the report was never hard for the Violin. Her missions always ended the same even if the surroundings or circumstances changed. It was a quick process for her which led her to finish early and head to the cafeteria or her room.

However, that day she took her time. She wasn't sure why she bothered to with the extra three seconds for each letter, but she did slowly counting how many people were left in the room. Only once it was just her and five others did she grew unsure of her idea. What would she even do if she and the man stayed behind? How would she approach him and talk? And about what?

She finished the report labeled it with its number and took it cleaning the desk after herself for the next agent. She pushed all the strange emotions away clearing her mind off them.

As she was passing by the man's desk her eyes for some reason landed on what was in front of him. Instead of an opened file, it was a notebook of some sort with numbers, letters and symbols inside them. They made no sense and yet she recognized them as some form of math and something else. It was strange. She wasn't sure why but just by looking at them she felt this pressure inside the back of her head like something was trying to break free from under there.

The Violin didn't notice the man stopped writing until she was met with the pair of the most intense green eyes which made her for the first time since she could recall such a movement her stomach do a flip.

'Can I help you?' he asked at first in a deep and grumpy voice before something in his features softened and the Violin shook her head, 'I'm sorry.'

She headed out caring her report for filing and then went to her room skipping dinner all together hoping the strange stomach distress would fade away. She wouldn't want the Handler to serve her the tea again if she assumed she was unwell. She was never sick or injured before, so she didn't know what would be the treatment, and she was strongly opposed to finding out.

That night the dreams consumed her sleep again. This time one of the kids in the matching uniforms wrote math on the walls and had green eyes the same color as the man proving to the Violin more than ever that they were just dreams her mind made up from what her day was like.

* * *

'What's that song?' asked the man one day and the Violin almost pressed the wrong letter on her typewriter which would force her to start over the whole report.

She blinked at the man surprised he spoke to her in the first place as it felt like a while after he last did, and that he had no intention of doing so again. She didn't think he avoided her the way others did, but they did appear to be missing out on one another.

'Excuse me?' she wished she knew what he meant and was better at conversations even if she shouldn't care. It wasn't like anyone ever spoken to her besides the Handler, and yet the man was talking to her now.

'The song. You hum it from time to time, don't you know?' he asked his eyes steady on her. No one looked at her like that. No one looked into her eyes. No one dared. No one was brave enough. Everyone feared her. And still, he looked into her eyes like he didn't.

She blinked not sure what to make of him and shook her head, 'I didn't notice I hum anything.'

He watched her for a moment perhaps making out of she was lying or not before he said, 'You do it only once in a while. Last week, last month, usually for a few days then for a while not.'

The Violin took the information in, wondering if it was connected to her dreams. Last week, last month usually for a few days and then for a while not would fit the time schedule she supposed.

'I didn't notice,' she told him the truth not sure why did she even bother before she asked, 'Can you tell me next time I do it?'

The man blinked which felt like it was for the first time since he saw her his eyes revealing something softer for a second before the cold detached look was back. It was the second time he did so since when he caught her looking at his notebook, he seemed to go soft on her as well, 'Of course. Until next time then.'

He nodded and left without waiting for a reply leaving the Violin confused why she had asked him to do so in the first place. Everything about what she did since she started to notice the man confused her to no end. She wasn't sure if she was on good terms with the newfound curiosity and confusion, but even if she constantly pushed any beginning of emotion away only allowing herself the brief satisfaction from the Handler, she couldn't stop herself from trying to…stay close to the man.

* * *

Still, the man stayed true to his word and started to sit next to her in the report room. She would be writing a report on some days, and he would casually glance at her or not even that and just say, 'You're doing it now.'

She would immediately stop even if she wasn't sure she was doing it in the first place. Her little theory was right. She did it only when she had a dream the night before. She wondered if maybe the melody was also something from the dream but she tried to tell herself not to hum it at all.

'Why did you stop?' he asked her one time, and the Violin blinked, 'I hate tea.'

The man paused his typing and actually looked at her to read her face as she shrugged her shoulders something she couldn't remember the last time she did before she said, 'I only hum when I dream and the Handler wants us to drink tea when I dream. I like coffee more.'

If the man found the answer to be confusing he didn't say, but the next time she came to write her report there was a plastic coffee cup sitting on the desk next to his. He was furiously writing without looking up at her, but the was another cup on his desk as well.

She took a sip before she turned to him, 'Thank you, black no sugar, how did you know?'

'I drink it the same,' he said as if it should have answered everything for her. It didn't but she found herself enjoying the coffee the same, and allowing herself to hold onto the feeling for a bit longer. It tasted even better than the one she had the same week with the Handler.

Strange indeed. Strange man. Strange feelings. Strange tastes.

Maybe strange wasn't so bad.

* * *

So far the only time she met the man was in the report room or on the way to or from it. She wondered about where was his room occasionally trying to listen and make out his footsteps. The Violin wondered what were his missions like, or what was his schedule for the cafeteria. If she really started to let her mind wander, she found herself wondering what was his life before the Commission, what did he think about when he sometimes looked out of the window his eyes so far away. Why did he make her feel so strange? Or what did he thought of her? There was a part of her, which wanted to know more about him. Everything about him. It almost frightened her, and yet, she felt like she was going to be ill if she didn't achieve it. When they spoke, it was about uneventful mindless things, and still, it felt like it held a grand meaning. She would find the conversations about the weather and a bird that came to sit on the window boring, but when he spoke about it was the most interesting thing imaginable. Sometimes she almost dug deeper when she asked. What did he dream about, but seeing the hesitance in his eyes and how the corner of them moved to the side like he was expecting someone to listen in on them make her go quiet. She wondered if perhaps someone didn't hear what they spoke about. Since for the next few weeks, the Handler only offered her tea even if she didn't dream.

The Violin found them man sitting behind an empty table in the corner one late evening. They usually seemed to only speak to one another when very few or none people were around so she took it as a sign she might as well.

He didn't stop eating when she approached him, but she could see the way he slowed his chewing.

'May I sit?'

He nodded after a moment and looked down at her food watching her take a few bites before he returned to eating.

They did so in silence for the most part before he asked, 'Why do you think you hum the song only when you dream?'

The question caught her off guard and she continued to eat without answering. To be completely honest she didn't know.

'What does the math in your notebook mean?' she asked instead of feeling his glare rather than seeing it before they returned to eating in silence again. She knew it was her fault the conversation died, but she didn't want to answer him. She didn't want to talk about her dreams. She didn't like to think about her dreams, and she didn't like the tea the Handler forced her to drink when she talked about her dreams.

'It's Bach,' said the man so suddenly the Violin didn't understand for a moment and looked up at him.

His eyes were on her before he explained, 'The song. It's Bach. There's a room down in the basement you can play any record there. It is labeled as record number 757 in the library.'

Completely caught off guard the only thing the Violin managed to get out through the whole time they dine together was, 'Thank you.'

* * *

To be completely honest she avoided going to the library for the record. The White Violin wasn't sure if this was how people felt fear or worries, but she felt something inside her stomach, a knot which was making it hard to breathe properly or eat. She wondered why it caused her to feel like this. It was just a song from her dreams. It didn't have to mean anything. It wouldn't mean anything. Did she even want to hear it?

The night before she finally went she once again dreamed about kids in the matching uniforms. This time she dreamed about one of the kids playing the violin. She couldn't hear the song. It was like she was only seeing the girl but without any volume which reminded her of some dark room with no sound only the one from the inside which made her want to scratch her ears out. She didn't know where the idea of the darkroom came from but she had it quite often.

Everything she did since she woke up that morning felt tense causing her stomach to shrink. She tried to shake the feeling away, push it into the corner of her mind, but at the same time didn't try too much. Lately, she let her feeling dwell inside her a bit longer getting familiar with them once again, not all were pleasant, but she liked those that awoke when she was having a calm conversation with the man.

With every step to the library and then the record room, she felt like she was being watched. It was as if every agent was on her heels eyeing her from the corner of their eyes. What would happen if she played the record? What if it was a trap? What if the Handler wanted to test her? But why would she do so? It wasn't forbidden to listen to music. It wasn't forbidden to talk to people. It wasn't forbidden for her to dream, the Handler just would rather her not to. Why would she need to test her? Did she not prove her loyalty time and time again when she finished her mission and wrote her report?

She placed the record and looked around the room one more time before the first note started erasing everything else from her mind, every worry, every thought, every feeling and leaving her completely captivated by the sound in its absolute mercy. It was like she was spiraling into an endless hole following the notes and tones like a well-known path into her personal madness.

After the last notes of the song were done, she felt sick to her stomach completely. She was never sick or injured and yet this was the only way she could describe it. She was ill. The next song started to play and she quickly stopped it her hands shaking as she could still hear the echoes of the song inside her mind.

_Control it_

She closed her eyes and made sure to keep her powers which were directly linked to sounds as bay. She was so used to them. She never had a problem to control them. Her last incident must have been when she was a child, but at that moment, she could almost feel them crawling under her skin making it hard to breathe, hard to keep them in check.

She tried to focus on something on anything. Her ears were searching something other than the notes from that devilish song. She heard typewriters clicking in the report room, forks and knives hitting the plates in the cafeteria, the Handler speaking to someone about an upcoming revision in her office, agents, employees, management. People she passed in the hallways, in the common rooms, in the cafeteria, and then…she heard him. He was in a room in the housing area his pen hitting the side of some book. It was a very soft sound rhythmical even. She tried to listen some more hearing his heartbeat. It was steadier now than it usually was. Sometimes, she caught him to speed up when he spoke to her. When she talked about something almost leaving a hint of something from her dreams or what she was thinking about it. It made her wonder if maybe it could mean he felt a bit different about her when his heart did that, but she couldn't be sure. She wished she remembered what his heart was like when he first faced her, or when she noticed his notes in the book. She wished for so many things since she became obsessed with him.

She left the record room and returned the record to the library only to be stopped by one of the agents, The Cluemaster, and told the Handler had asked for her.

She made it sound like she had some business so she switched their weekly meetings, 'You don't mind, do you, dear Violin?'

'No,' she told her. Then followed up the routine questions and once again even if she told her she didn't have dreams, she offered her the tea.

'Someone told me you made a friend, Violin,' said the Handler suddenly changing the tail of the conversation.

The Violin decided not to comment on it giving the Handler the opportunity to have her speech. She wasn't sure what to expect. Perhaps for the woman to tell her not to speak with the man, or to ask her more about him.

'It's good to have friends, isn't it?' she asked with a strange smile, 'When you have a good loyal friend you can trust them with everything, don't you think?'

She should say she wouldn't know. She would hardly call the man a friend, but maybe he was one. They spoke almost every day now, but she spoke with the Handler often as well, she would never make the mistake of calling her a friend.

She remained quiet and still just sipping her tea here and there while the Handler continued to speak about the impotence of friendship until they finished their drinks and she said, 'You should be careful though. Not everything has your best interest in the heart like me. And even your good friends came sometimes let you down.'

The Violin thanked her for the talk, the tea and left to go to her room and change for the mission she got alerted to while in Handler's office. She had only time to change her clothes, but she still went to the bathroom tuned all the noises out so no one would listen and puked her guts out and as much of the disgusting tea as she could wondering how could a brown tea turn green.

When she washed her face she took a good look in the mirror feeling like she wanted to puke again just by seeing the white hair glowing eyes looking back at her. She never took the time to observe herself more in the mirror above the bare minimum to seem decent. So why did her white eyes, white hair, and face brought her grieve now? Did she look the same as always? What was different?

She threw up again.

* * *

Unlike other agents, the White Violin's missions were the same. With a briefcase and escort of one of the agents, she traveled to the 1st of April 2019. She went to a concert of the Icarus Orchestra, where she waited for until 21:38 walked up on the stage and unleashed her powers on the moon blowing it up and causing the end of the world. It was a script she followed as long as she could remember. The changes were minimum usually just in the name of the agents who escorted her, occasional security guards of the theater, or orchestra members, people in the crowd, and a group of odd people with powers as well, who tried to stop. It didn't matter since she always proved to be stronger than them occasionally killing them before destroying the mood.

She never felt any way about killing people and ending the world. It was her job. Something she was ordered to do by an organization she worked in longer than she could remember. She didn't feel anything about it only the occasional praise of a job well done by the Handler but even that started to fade all together once she allowed herself to feel the unexplainable sadness that followed.

She never refused a mission. She didn't see a point in doing so, and she didn't think it was possible to refuse one all together. Yet, today as she walked toward the briefcase room with her assignment, she really wished she could. Maybe it was because of the song in the record room, or vomiting out the tea, or seeing the Cluemaster and the man standing there waiting for her, but The White Violin felt sick to her stomach completely unsure about the mission.

'There has been a change and the Handler ordered a second escort, although I don't see a reason why,' said the Cluemaster, he was shorter than the man with short brown hair cut very poorly and a voice which the Violin never notice until now was very annoying.

The man seemed unfazed by his comment keeping his eyes on her as he took the briefcase from her hand, 'Are you objecting to the Handler's orders?'

The Cluemaster shot him a glare and wordlessly followed to the starting point.

'Are you alright?' asked the man when the other one was out of earshot, his voice incredibly gentle like he was talking to someone he cared about dearly and not a woman he barely knew.

She blinked looking at him feeling her heart in her throat now knowing how to talk worried she would vomit again this time unintentionally.

'You seem paler than usual,' he said, and she prayed he would stop talking because she was in no condition to answer. She should report herself. He should report her. She shouldn't go. She didn't want to go. She needed to go to the Handler and told her what she did. She was…she was…compromise? But with what? How? She didn't want to betray the Commission or fail the mission, so why the sudden paranoia? Feeling herself shaking all over she went to the starting point as well and waited for the man looking at him with the hope he would press further and mark her unfit. He didn't.

The briefcase got opened and he set the date and time all of them turning up in the alley behind the Icarus, as usual.

It should have been easy, simple. She had done it so many times before. But the moment she took the first step she reached to hold herself against the wall closing her eyes the music still replaying in her mind as well as the kids in the matching uniforms like echoes and ghosts.

She felt the man put his hand on her back. It was warm and bigger than hers. She was sure if she leaned against it, he would be able to hold her.

'What is the meaning of this? If you were not suited for the mission you should have reported-'

'I believe the Violin just needs a moment to compose herself from the travel,' the man cut him off and then said slowly only for her to hear, 'Don't give him amo to use against you later.'

She opened her and started to walk ignoring both of them toward the orchestra. They sneaked inside and took place in the back as the concert was about the start. Usually, the Violin paid little attention to the whole thing just counting the minutes before she was needed to act, but tonight she truly listened taking in the music feeling her whole body vibrate with it. It would be good fuel for her powers so rhythmical, so in harmony, the sound following a pattern she could absorb. She didn't need it. She could use anything the slow rain outside, the buzzing of the fly in the corner of the bathroom down the hallway, her own heartbeat. Why was she so focused on it tonight? Why was it all so confusing and yet sharper than ever tonight?

She looked at the man by her side. His head was turned to the concert as well, but his eyes were unmistaken on her. Did he know the song would cause her to feel this way? Did he plan it? Was this the loyalty and friendship the Handler referred to? Was it also a test? Was it all just a test? What if she failed? What would happen to her? What did she even know about the man she fantasized about almost every night imagining talking to him all night, and then other things like touching him, skin to skin, or kissing him or-

She averted her eyes away and then checked the watch. It was time. She walked up to the stage from the back, the same way as always. Someone was at the back, and she was forced to throw them to the side using the wave created from the concert before she stepped on the stage throwing everyone off it with their instruments.

The chaos and desperate attempts to run started, and she watched as people fly for the exits in their expensive dresses and shoes. She knew what would follow. It almost always did. Despite everyone trying to get away as quickly as possible someone tried to get inside instead.

The Violin recognized them. They always came. A tall and large man in a trench coat, a tall pretty Afro-American woman with blonde hair who looked like she could be an actress, a man dressed in black with knives, a man in a long coat with short wavy dark hair. They usually came and tried to stop her, and they always failed. By now she knew to get rid of them upfront. If she had a conscience she could fool herself to think it was out of mercy, but she didn't often lie to herself so she knew it was more effective that way to do what she really came here to do. She usually didn't even let them get close to the stage, but not tonight. Tonight she found herself frozen in place looking at them speechless just watching them wondering about their determination and actually letting herself to get not even try to stop them as they moved all too close. She thought about all of it. The people in the theater, the orchestra, the people who came to stop her, the Commission, her mission, the man, the children from her dreams, the Handler and herself. She thought about all of it and the desperation and sadness she felt from it all. Why was she so sad? Why couldn't she just do her job?

She fell to her knees and started to cry hard ignoring the chaos which escalated around her. Usually, her job was also to secure the agent who came to escort her from getting killed like the rest of the world, but she couldn't bring herself to look up from her hands. Everything felt too sharp, too loud, too real.

She sobbed and cried to the point of choking on herself when she felt a hand touch her shoulder, 'Vanya, you need to finish it.'

She tried to see through her tears. She recognized the voice of the man, but she couldn't see his face as her vision was blurry. She felt her powers move around destroying the theater and maybe the world.

'Five, I can't-I can't,' she repeated shaking her head for what felt like forever.

She felt the man grab both of her arms and shake her, 'Listen to me, if you don't they will notice. You need to destroy the world and write a report about how the Cluemaster tried to stop you, how he was upset about being forced to go with someone else on a mission and tried to sabotage it out of revenge, do you understand?'

She blinked away some tears and looked to the side the Cluemaster was lying on the ground not moving.

'He was going to write a report for the Handler. He was her spy. Do you know what she would do if she found out you hesitated?' continued the man, 'Vanya!'

She blinked and looked at him realizing only then he called her by that name before as well. Why did he do so?

His face was worried and tired as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time she noticed he had a short temper, he had to keep in check. With others, he could be very easily started and say something sharp, not with her though. He actually tried with her.

He opened his eyes and moved his hands to her cheeks. His hands weren't especially warm, and yet they caused her to burn inside, 'Vanya, trust me. You have to do it. They cannot know.'

She blinked remembering the Handler's speech about loyalty and friends.

She put her palms over his and pulled them away before standing up making sure he was protected. The people who tried to stop her were all laying on the ground. Were they dead? Did she do that or him?

She turned her face to the sky, the full moon, and did what she needed.

As she later typed away her report, she didn't even bat an eye as she realized it wasn't the first or last time she lied to the Handler and the Commission.

* * *

If the Handler or anyone else suspected fault play, they didn't show, but more often than not The White Violin was accompanied by the man to her missions along with another agent. She kept herself in check and even if it made her feel even sicker afterward she did her job without raising suspicion.

They minimized their time together in the report room or cafeteria. Not entirely for any of the agents to notice, but with a significant decrease which made it less likely for people to notice them together. However, they started to meet in other places. In dark hallways, the basement, record room, near the stairs, near the elevator. In places with easy and quick exits so if they heard someone approaching they could leave without people catching them together.

The first time they did so without arranging it. It was shortly after what happened and the Violin started to return to the old record room with records. Not Bach. Just anything she could find and put there so no one would hear them talking.

'Why did you call me Vanya?' she asked him immediately once the door behind him closed. She didn't raise her voice, but she felt like she was shouting. Her whole body shaking once again.

'Why do you call me Five?' he asked right back, and she blinked confused, 'What?'

'You called me that in the theater, and sometimes when we talk,' he said, and she shook her head before feeling the familiar pressure at the back of her head.

Her frustration was getting the better of her, 'I-I didn't notice I call you that. I thought I called you like everyone else.'

He shook his head, 'No, everyone here calls me Gunman. Not you, you call me my real name.'

She looked at him surprised by that trying to find some sense in what he was saying.

'Your dreams aren't dreams,' he said, 'they're memories. Of you and me and the others. We were adopted siblings. The Hargreeves.'

She looked away and shook her head trying to deny it. To call him crazy. To say he made it all up. And yet, the moment he said siblings names started to run around her head crawling at first from that corner in the back and then permanently flying around.

'_Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, Ben, and Vanya,_' she said and looked at him for a second before all of it was too much and she almost felt down again crying. He caught her pressed her against him holding her in his arms as she cried memories and dreams slowly coming back to her.

* * *

Every time they met in secret they revealed a bit more about their past. Some things were as clear as day in her mind, the time they snuck out to go for donuts. When Klaus broke his jaw while running around in Grace's heals. When Five asked her to help him prank Diego. How Allison once complimented her hair for being so long and straight. But others were blurry or not there at all.

'How did you end up here? When did you leave? Your file id in the Handler's office, I can't get to it,' he told her when they were whispering to each other in the hallway by the fire exit.

'I don't know. I was home, you left that's it,' she said and shook her head hurting. It was hardly ever since she started to slowly become Vanya. Everything felt unreal or too real. Her powers wanted out never finding satisfaction in releasing them in 2019 anymore.

'What about you?' she asked him that day tired of all the questions being about her, 'Why did you leave? Where did you go?'

His face couldn't be seen because of the dark, but she could feel the tension in his body and hear the movement as he looked away, 'I needed to time travel. I did it.'

'Why? You promised you wouldn't until you were sure of it. Until you tested it,' she reminded him and heard the way his heartbeat speeded up and the pulse jumped. He was ready to argue, to defend himself and his decision like she witnessed so many times before as a child and now.

'I was sure,' he told her his voice hinting his frustrated before he sighed dropped his voice and accepted some defeat, 'I was so sure then.'

They stayed silent for a moment The Violin feeling the tension flowing inside him. If she was truly and fully Vanya, she would pull him into her arms and keep him close until he would feel better the way they used to as children. But could she? She wasn't a child anymore. She wasn't that girl or person anymore. She used to think she could never hurt anyone and there she was ending the work whenever a higher organization called for it.

Her fingers found his hand on their own accord lightly moving them over the skin until she could entwine them together. He returned the gesture almost instantly. Maybe she didn't fully accept being Vanya or knew how to be her, but her subconscious seemed to know exactly. She sang the song she now remembered she used to play almost every day. She said Five's real name even before she remembered who he was. She dreamed of her past.

'I'm sorry, I left,' he spoke when she thought he wouldn't.

Her head raised to look at him even if she couldn't in the dark, 'It wasn't your fault.'

'Maybe, if I didn't-'

'You can't know that,' she argued, and he didn't reply just continued to hold her until she asked the question he must have chosen to ignore, 'Where did you go?'

He was older than her. Even if she didn't know how much time past since she was in the Commission, he was by appearance older than her.

'April the 2nd 2019,' he said and gripped her hand tighter not letting her to break free which she didn't know she wanted to until she tried.

They stood still for the longest of time the Violin not sure what to say instead of, 'I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault,' he whispered his voice soft as it sometimes got when they were alone away from prying eyes.

'Then whose?' she asked barely louder than a whisper before she felt him put his free hand on the back of her head and pulling her to his chest. He sat his chin on top of her head and even if she was still new to remember how to touch, she held onto him for dear life breathing in his scent and wondering how she could ever forget it in the first place.

By the time they needed to leave to avoid suspicion, she heard him chuckle a bit on the top of her head, 'What?'

'I always imagined you small. I wondered about how you looked when you grew up, but your height always stayed the same,' he confessed and Vanya was for the first time upset she couldn't see his face properly, his smile, 'That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.'

He chuckled again, and if it was possible she found herself smiling as well feeling like Vanya more than she did in years and oddly feeling like herself again.

* * *

If the Handler knew something she didn't say, just switched completely to tea on every meeting which Vanya puked out every time she was alone.

'She knows something. The other agents speculate and don't want to go alone with you. They're worried now,' he said as they hid in the library not the best spot, but only available at the moment.

'She doesn't think he just acted out of revenge, but she has no proof.'

'Does she know who you are then?' asked Vanya while listening for anyone changing their direction toward them.

'Of course, but she doesn't know I know who you are,' he told her and pulled out his book, the one, he wrote all his equations and math before.

He held it for quite some time unsure how to let it go before he finally decided and turned it around giving it into her palms putting his over hers as she held onto it.

She was left speechless as she looked at the woman on the backside of the cover.

'That's-'

'You, from a different timeline, I suppose,' he said and followed up with a theory how at one timeline Vanya must have remained in the house until her adulthood and write a book about their family. She wrote about his disappearance so he must have traveled to the future too. In this timeline, at one point the Commission either kidnapped her or offered her to come with them maybe by manipulation or treats and brainwashed her or erased her memories. Whatever happened afterward was left unknown to him, but he explained that when he found the book it was left with a note stating that he must join the Commission and not reveal anything to her no matter what he saw her do until it was unavoidable.

'I figured the Cluemaster was a good start as any,' Five finished his speech while Vanya kept her eyes on the book, her face feeling a pinch of sadness.

'It saved my life,' he told her causing her to look at him feeling tears in the corner of her eyes again. She felt terrible now about him having to go through all that, and about seeing herself like that. All human and smiling. Funny how much she hated the word ordinary and now she would give up _everything_ to be like that again.

'It gave me hope that all will be well, a will to live. Everything was worth it knowing I would fix it, save the world, see you again,' he said and let go of one of her hands to wipe away a tear rolling down her cheek.

'I just wished I wasn't so old,' he said with a bitter grimace when she opened her eyes.

'I don't care,' she told him looking deep into his eyes knowing he could see she was telling the truth. Every day she remembered more and more of what she felt for him and every time they met and spoke like this she started to feel it even more profoundly as if they never separated and grew up together like we were meant to. When he touched her like that or looked at her in a certain way, she knew he felt it too.

His fingers lingered against her skin a bit longer, and she closed her eyes feeling herself on fire again just from the tenderness of his touches. She wished they were somewhere else. Somewhere they couldn't be caught. Somewhere they could stay longer. Somewhere she could touch him as well.

But of course, she heard footsteps approach and walked away leaving him with a small smile before disappearing behind the shelves.

* * *

Five had far more missions and assignments than her, so the time they could truly speak was limited. While he was away Vanya tried to figure out ways to get her file from the Handler's office without her noticing. They bother agreed that since only Vanya visited her weekly she would have to wait until the Handler left her alone for a moment to do so.

'I could tear it down. The whole building. The whole Commission, you know I could,' whispered Vanya at one of their meetings taking his hand into hers bolder with the touches feeling more and more like the girl she used to be pushing the whiteness away from her soul.

Five sighed and lifted her palm to his chest pressing it against his heart, 'I know you could, but we need to be smart. We have the element of surprise, but so does the Handler. She got you here. How? Did she kidnap you if so how did she do so without triggering your powers? Dad dosed you with pills but even those didn't work if you got too upset, remember. We used to think it was the ghost Klaus spoke about, but I think it was you.'

She closed her eyes and nodded accepting his explanation, 'I just don't know how long I can do it. Those people in the theater. Those people who try to stop him over and over again.'

'It's not real,' he told her, 'It's not real if we stop the circle if we save them we keep the timeline running. We fix it.'

'But what about all the versions that died?' she asked knowing it was a lost battle. There were no happy endings at least not without consequences.

He kissed her wrist offering her comfort instead of an answer. They couldn't lie to each other anymore.

This caused her to end up once again in the Handler's office. At times it took everything inside her not to lash out on her reminding herself of what Five said. If he could go on for so long without telling her who he was she could do this too.

'I read your last report,' started the Handler with a smile which used to do nothing for Vanya but now made her want to crush her to dust.

'The mission went well as usual,' she replied and the Handler nodded, 'True. This time there was no one trying to stop you.'

It was true. They didn't know what caused the alteration, but on some times the four people who tried to stop her in the theater didn't show up at all.

'Yes.'

The Handler watched as she sipped the tea thinking. Even when she was the White Violin she knew the Handler was cunning, but only now she fully realized that she observed and tested every move she made to catch her in one way or another.

'Such a shame though. Personally, I find it a waste of talent. Such extraordinary kids,' she started entwining her fingers while Vanya sat still trying to deduce where she was going with it.

'The great Umbrella Academy,' she continued, 'Such loss really. If the children were all taken here, for example, I am sure we could take their talents to great use, don't you agree, Violin?' she asked her directly. It might have been the fact that she called her by the name the Commission given her that she managed to switch off being Vanya, Number Seven, the sister who just found out she was murdering her siblings on repeat and turn into the White Violin, an agent of the Commission who could tune out her emotions instead of letting them make the best of her which was exactly what she did.

'Yes, I suppose,' she said not even sure how she managed to do. The Handler watched her for a moment before she smiled, 'Frankly, the higher folks don't think the same and much rather use them as the final attempt of defense at your grand show. Such a waste to good talent and skills.'

She continued to talk on but the Violin tuned her out and tuned Vanya out with her trying to stay as still as possible and avoid any sign or beginning of emotions.

When the phone rang, she expected the Handler will tell her to leave, but she just turned around in her chair listening to whoever was calling. The Violin was an agent, who was trained and worked in the Commission as long as she could remember, so she used the moment to snoop around.

The Gunman maybe didn't know where the Handler hid the file, but the Violin did. She heard everything and in the hours when the Handler was on her own, she heard loud and clear the movement of a painting being moved and the code being punched in and the Handler picking something up.

Maybe it was due to the dark room she was forced to stay as a child when Reginald Hargreeves thought she needed to be punished for his failure to teach her, but she learned how to tune the sounds out even to others.

She walked to the painting and pulled it down the Handler still talking on the phone ignoring her as she didn't hear a thing. The Violin was sure of it. She put the painting down her eyes still on the woman who ruined Vanya and Five's life and added the code making the volume of the buttons only loud enough for her to her so she would match them to the ones she heard the Handler repeat so often.

The safe opened immediately and the Violin pulled out the files hers, Five's and the Handler's. She took all of them out and looked over with the eyes of the Violin, an agent on the mission stripping anything which might have shocked or upset Vanya away before she placed them back locked the safe and returned to sit when she did before untuning the rest of the room.

She waited until the Handler turned back around and ordered her to leave which she did. For the first time since she started to feel something. She wanted the tea to take everything away and let her be just the White Violin who didn't have to feel anything. But even though the White Violin rarely dreamed, she couldn't forget the dreams at least not forever. And once she dreamed, no matter how much they hurt or made her feel she couldn't let them slip away.

Vanya puke out the tea and cried on the floor of her small bathroom not caring if the bugs in her room would hear her or not.

* * *

It felt like forever passed when Vanya finally got off the floor and walked out of the room to the other hallway knocking on the door. She knew Five was there. She heard him a couple of hours ago or maybe it was days.

He took a while to open the door maybe unsure of who was behind, but once he did he didn't seem all that surprised.

Five let her in and even if she knew they were most likely listened to she couldn't help herself as she whispered even though she tuned the room to silence, 'Why didn't you tell me they were our siblings?'

He sighed exhausted and walked to the dresser he kept a bottle of scotch she could sometimes smell on him, 'You know why.'

He poured them both glasses. How he knew they could talk freely she didn't know, 'She tried to use it against you?'

She nodded, 'Yes. She suspects. She tried to see my reactions. I don't think she knows though.'

He handed her the glass, 'She called me after the mission. Tried the same on me. She really doesn't know.'

'But you knew it was them?' she asked taking the glass. She never drank not sure what to expect but the fire which burnt her throat and made her at least for a second think about something else was actually a pleasant distraction.

'I found their bodies, their adult bodies, in the future. They still had their tattoos. They were near the theater,' he told her, and she drank the rest of the glass before giving it back to him requesting another.

She then told him all about what she read in the files. It stated that the Commission was called to the scene when the thirteen-year-old Vanya destroyed the city. It wasn't said how it happened, but Vanya suggested that she was pretty emotional after he ran away and missed on a pill the night before so maybe it was that. The mission Asset was put in motion where Vanya was supposed to be taken and trained if she proved to be too unstable for Hargreeves to handle taking care of until 2019. She left out some of what they did just confirmed the brainwash and torture to get her memories to be erased between the time she exploded at thirteen and when she was fully turned into the White Violin. The Violin then claimed not to have any memories of the time with her adopted siblings. She didn't for that brief time and only got them back when she started to dream again or Five came into her life again.

'How did she convince you to stay to go through it all he asked?' he asked and she grimaced, 'She said she would bring them back. She said she could teach me how to control it better than dad and bring me back before I killed everyone before you ran away. She said she would help me find you,' she drank up the fourth glass by that time getting used to the taste.

'I guess dad was right, not only was I unremarkable but also stupid-'

'Dad wasn't right once in his entire life,' snapped Five and sat his own glass down before he walked toward her putting his hands over her face, 'You are and always were the most remarkable and extraordinary person I ever met. Don't ever let cut yourself short, not in front of me.'

She watched him so desperate to believe him. She put her hands over his keeping them on her face, 'I read what you've been through in the future. All alone, in the ruins, she had you watched. Someone was always so close, and all this time you thought you were alone. You…you suffered so much because of me.'

He looked upset now, 'It wasn't because of you-'

'Do you hate me? Maybe not completely, but a bit? For what I did to you? What I put you through?' she asked feeling her tears once again. His face was desperate and exhausted, which made her think he would admit that she was right at least a bit.

Five leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers taking a deep breath before he said, 'I love you, and I always have, and I never not even for a second felt anything but love and admiration toward you. Even when I found out it was you all I could think about was how much I hated the Handler and this fucking place, but don't even for a second assume that I blamed you for it.'

She closed her eyes, 'What do you think it would have been like if you never left? If we stayed together in that house?'

'It can still be that way. You know we can still stay together,' he told her making it hard to deny or give into doubts when he looked at her like that. Like it would all work out like they still had time and do anything they wanted. Vanya was getting used to many things, being her self, letting herself feel pain and guilt, but also love, and affection. Giving into her loneliness, but also breaking it apart with Five's presence. Getting used to being selfish, and want something for herself even happiness was still new though.

However, she didn't mind to learn it.

She reached her hands into his hair and neck pulling him closer while standing on her toes.

The first touch of their lips was soft and brief with the taste of scotch and loneliness which was permanently printed into their hearts from being apart for so long. Him in the future without humans, and her in a house without and the Commission. Yet, it felt and tasted perfect, sweat and bitter like everything falling back where it belonged in her mind and soul.

She felt him shake against her, his lips opening and closing when she pulled away a bit to listen to what he wanted to say, 'Vanya, I'm old. Very old. Maybe too old-'

'No, no you're not. You're Five, and you're still mine,' she said and brushed his hair with her fingers scratching his scalp a bit knowing she was telling the truth remembering everything about her silly crush which made her say up at night now. Of course, it immediately modified into love when they met as adults, how could it now?

'And I'm still yours, and it doesn't matter what we are as long as we still belong to each other.'

She looked at him seeing the hesitation melt away as she brought herself up again meeting his lips with her own in another delicate touch before she asked for good measures, 'Are you still mine? Do we still belong together?'

'Always,' he told her in a heartbeat moving his hand to her neck before pulling her to him for another kiss this time a deeper and longer one while his other hand left her cheek to support her back making her feel safe and content in his arms like this.

'So tiny,' Five said between their urgent kisses.

She grinned but only for a second before she was forced to kiss him again not that she minded. They stood there enjoying each others' mouths and touch letting everything else fade away maybe due to the courage from the alcohol, and lack of anything to fear from in the Commission or to feel guilty for those they had to kill and lose knowing they could fix it and saved them any moment.

'I could do it now,' she whispered as his lips moved under her ear and then lower to her neck. Her eyes closed in bliss as she took in the sensation, 'I rather you wait.'

'For her to see? So she would know that with all her cunning and skills she still miscalculated with bringing you here?' she asked, and he leaned away looking at her before smiling, honestly and truly smiling. Not all of her good mood could be pinned on the alcohol.

He took a few pieces of her hair and wrapped his finger around them before showing it to her, 'Your hair is brown again.'

Vanya blinked at it surprised, 'Oh?'

'Your eyes change the color too,' he told her still smiling as he stroked her hair a bit to the side, 'Whenever we touch or speak about the memories we share.'

She smiled at that before letting him kiss her again guiding her to the bed and letting her feel everything she ever could have with his lips against hers and his hands on her body.

'I love you,' she said somewhere between their kisses and the sheets and the losing herself completely in the heat of their bodies and souls.

'I love you too,' he told her before making her lose all control and scream at the top of her lungs hearing the piercing noises of the bugs in all the rooms almost exploding from the sound. Hoping the Handler heard her before she let herself go completely.

* * *

Times passed fast and yet slow for Vanya. Things change and happen, but others never do. She still had dreams, but instead of seeing the kids in the matching uniforms. She saw adults burned alive when the moon blew up crying for help or the Handler's smirk while she praised her good work. She usually woke up with the taste of tea in her throat almost wanting to puke.

But when she opened her eyes and rolled to her side to look at the boy in front of her, 'What is it?'

'It's the ghost again, the man with the hook,' said four-year-old Klaus already peaking over her shoulder to the bed. He was an opportunist, and it didn't help that a cute one at that.

Sighing to herself and nodded for him to come to the bed before hearing Five mumble in a soft voice, 'Ben, you can come too.'

The other boy quickly rushed from the hallway before the two kids crawled under the covers Vanya and Five making space for them between on bed.

'You can move closer,' she whispered to Five who kept his eyes closed, 'It won't be long before the others come.'

He was right. Vanya could already hear the wooden floor crack in their hallway with three pairs of little feet making their way to the adults' bedroom.

'I told you this would happen with a bigger bed,' he mumbled as Diego moved behind Ben pressing his face against Five's chest who stroke his hair a bit before moving his hand around him and the other boy.

Vanya chuckled at her old sometimes grumpy man, 'No, if we bought the smaller bed they would still end up here, but we would be squeezing more and falling out.'

She tugged Luther and Allison with the rest of the blanket as the girl snuggled closer to her, 'Tomorrow is the fair. We will go see farm animals and ride the horses?'

Vanya smiled at her before she kissed her cheek tenderly, 'Yes, but tomorrow. Tonight we sleep.'

The kids started to slowly doze off one by one as Vanya listen to them and Five. It was a habit now. She could never sleep until she knew all of them were asleep. They did what they promised themselves to do and took down the Commission, then went back and took the others from Reginald when they were just babies and left to a different time and place where he couldn't find them. They didn't bother with their mothers knowing if they wanted to keep them they wouldn't sell them to the man. They lived as a family. A bit strange one with a father who looked twice the age of the mother, who changed her hair from white to brown and five adopted kids.

After they were left shaking inside each other arms feeling the aftermath of their lovemaking, Five looked at her ignoring the ruins around them everyone dead and everything but the bed they were in destroyed, 'I would have preferred you did so after I snatched a briefcase.'

She chuckled not feeling one bit of shame, 'Like you didn't already figure it out.'

He smirked at her in that way she loved growing up before kissing her, 'So what do you saw we rest a bit under the stars and then go see our siblings.'

'Let's go further,' she said thinking about her dreams, 'Let's go as far as possible and take them instead somewhere even further where he can't get to them. We can raise them better than him. They can call us whatever they want and they can be themselves. We can teach them control and let them decide who they want to be. They wouldn't be spoiled by childhood traumas and what happened. We can let them live a happy life and grow up the way they should have, as we all should have, like real kids,' she told him the idea of potential happiness for her siblings making her drunk and excited all over again.

Five watched her for a moment before he leaned down to kiss her, 'I like that. Let's make our own future. Let's make a better future for all of us.'

And they did.

Vanya rarely dreamed about the White Violin, but when she did and the pain and guilt were getting the best of her, she listened to the soft heartbeats of her family before falling back asleep to a more pleasant dream caring about everyone and everything finally feeling like she was home and happy.

**Koniec**

* * *

**A.N: Hey, Happy Late New Year for all of you guys. I hope you enjoyed the story and thank you for reading it. I think I changed the tone half-way through but please keep in mind I was working on it in October and now returned to it only in December. Anyway, thank you again for reading and any feedback is welcome. **


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